BULL FIGHTING
A company of Mexican bull-fighters were at this time performing in
Sonora every Sunday afternoon. The amphitheater was a large well-built
place, erected for the purpose on a small hill behind the street. The
arena was about thirty yards in diameter, and enclosed in a very strong
six-barred fence, gradually rising from which, all round, were several
tiers of seats, shaded from the sun by an awning.
I took the first opportunity of witnessing the spectacle, and found a
very large company assembled, among whom the Mexicans and Mexican women
in their gay dresses figured conspicuously. A good band of music
enlivened the scene till the appointed hour arrived, when the
bull-fighters entered the arena. The procession was headed by a clown in
a fantastic dress, who acted his part throughout the performances
uncommonly well, cracking jokes with his friends among the audience, and
singing comic songs. Next came four men on foot, all beautifully dressed
in satin jackets and knee-breeches, slashed and embroidered with bright
colors. Two horsemen, armed with lances, brought up the rear. After
marching round the arena, they stationed themselves in their various
places, one of the horsemen being at the side of the door by which the
bull was to enter. The door was then opened, and the bull rushed in, the
horseman giving him a poke with his lance as he passed, just to waken
him up. The footmen were all waving their red flags to attract his
attention, and he immediately charged at one of them; but, the man
stepping gracefully aside at the proper moment, the bull passed on and
found another red flag waiting for him, which he charged with as little
success. For some time they played with the bull in this manner, hopping
and skipping about before his horns with so much confidence, and such
apparent ease, as to give one the idea that there was neither danger nor
difficulty in dodging a wild bull. The bull did not charge so much as he
butted, for, almost without changing his ground, he butted quickly
several times in succession at the same man. The man, however, was
always too quick for him, sometimes just drawing the flag across his
face as he stepped aside, or vaulting over his horns and catching hold
of his tail before he could turn round.
After this exhibition one of the horsemen endeavored to engage the
attention of the bull, and when he charged, received him with the point
of his lance on the back of the neck. In this position they struggled
against each other, the horse pushing against the bull with all his
force, probably knowing that that was his only chance. On one occasion
the lance broke, when horse and rider seemed to be at the mercy of the
bull, but as quick as lightning the footmen were fluttering their flags
in his face and diverting his fury, while the horseman got another lance
and returned to the charge.
Shortly afterwards the footmen laid aside their flags and proceeded to
what is considered a more dangerous, and consequently more interesting,
part of the performances. They lighted cigars, and were handed small
pieces of wood, with a barbed point at one end and a squib at the other.
Having lighted his squibs at his cigar, one of their number rushes up in
front of the bull, shouting and stamping before him, as if challenging
him to come on. The bull is not slow of putting down his head and making
at him, when the man vaults nimbly over his horns, leaving a squib
fizzing and cracking on each side of his neck. This makes the bull still
more furious, but another man is ready for him, who plays him the same
trick, and so they go on till his neck is covered with squibs. One of
them then takes a large rosette, furnished in like manner with a sharp
barbed point, and this, as the bull butts at him, he sticks in his
forehead right between the eyes. Another man then engages the bull, and,
while eluding his horns, removes the rosette from his forehead. This is
considered a still more difficult feat, and was greeted with immense
applause, the Mexican part of the audience screaming with delight.
The performers were all uncommonly well made, handsome men; their tight
dresses greatly assisted their appearance, and they moved with so much
grace, and with such an expression on their countenance of pleasure and
confidence, even while making their greatest efforts, that they might
have been supposed to be going through the figures of a ballet on the
stage, instead of risking death from the horns of a wild bull at every
step they executed. During the latter part of the performance, being
without their red flags, they were of course in greater danger; but it
seemed to make no difference to them; they put a squib in each side of
the bull’s neck, while evading his attack, with as much apparent ease as
they had dodged him from behind their red flags. Sometimes, indeed, when
they were hard pressed, or when attacked by the bull so close to the
barrier that they had no room to maneuver round him, they sprang over it
in among the spectators.
The next thing in the program was riding the bull, and this was the most
amusing scene of all. One of the horsemen lassoes him over the horns,
and the other, securing him in his lasso by the hind-leg, trips him up,
and throws him without the least difficulty. By keeping the lassoes
taut, he is quite helpless. He is then girthed with a rope, and one of
the performers, holding on by this gets astride of the prostrate bull in
such a way as to secure his seat, when the animal rises. The lassoes are
then cast off, when the bull immediately gets up, and, furious at
finding a man on his back, plunges and kicks most desperately, jumping
from side to side, and jerking himself violently in every way, as he
vainly endeavors to bring his horns round so as to reach his rider. I
never saw such horsemanship, if horsemanship it could be called; nor did
I ever see a horse go through such contortions, or make such spasmodic
bounds and leaps: but the fellow never lost his seat, he stuck to the
bull as firm as a rock, though thrown about so violently that it seemed
enough to jerk the head off his body. During this singular exhibition
the spectators cheered and shouted most uproariously, and the bull was
maddened to greater fury than ever by the footmen shaking their flags
in his face, and putting more squibs on his neck. It seemed to be the
grand climax; they had exhausted all means to infuriate the bull to the
very utmost, and they were now braving him more audaciously than ever.
Had any of them made a slip of the foot, or misjudged his distance but a
hairbreadth, there would have been a speedy end of him; but fortunately
no such mishap occurred, for the blind rage of the bull was impotent
against their coolness and precision.
When the man riding the bull thought he had enough of it, he took an
opportunity when the bull came near the outside of the arena, and hopped
off his back on to the top of the barrier. A door was then opened, and
the bull was allowed to depart in peace. Three or four more bulls in
succession were fought in the same manner. The last of them was to have
been killed with the sword; but he proved one of those sulky,
treacherous animals who do not fight fair; he would not put down his
head and charge blindly at anything or everything, but only made a rush
now and then, when he thought he had a sure chance. With a bull of this
sort there is great danger, while with a furiously savage one there is
none at all--so say the bull-fighters; and after doing all they could,
without success, to madden and irritate this sulky animal, he was
removed, and another one was brought in, who had already shown a
requisite amount of blind fury in his disposition.
A long straight sword was then handed to the _matador_, who, with his
flag in his left hand, played with the bull for a little, evading
several attacks till he got one to suit him, when, as he stepped aside
from before the bull’s horns, he plunged the sword into the back of his
neck. Without a moan or a struggle the bull fell dead on the instant,
coming down all of a heap, in such a way that it was evident that even
before he fell he was dead. I have seen cattle butchered in every sort
of way, but in none was the transition from life to death so
instantaneous.
This was the grand feat of the day, and was thought to have been most
beautifully performed. The spectators testified their delight by the
most vociferous applause; the Mexican women waved their handkerchiefs,
the Mexicans cheered and shouted, and threw their hats in the air, while
the _matador_ walked proudly round the arena, bowing to the people amid
a shower of coin which his particular admirers in their enthusiasm
bestowed upon him.
I one day, at some diggings a few miles from Sonora, came across a young
fellow hard at work with his pick and shovel, whom I had met several
times at Moquelumne Hill and other places. In the course of conversation
he told me that he was tired of mining, and intended to practice his
profession again; upon which I immediately set him down as either a
lawyer or a doctor, there are such lots of them in the mines. I had the
curiosity, however, to ask him what profession he belonged to,--“Oh,” he
said, “I am a magician, a necromancer, a conjuror!” The idea of a
magician being reduced to the level of an ordinary mortal, and being
obliged to resort to such a matter-of-fact way of making money as
digging gold out of the earth, instead of conjuring it ready coined out
of other men’s pockets, appeared to me so very ridiculous that I could
not help laughing at the thought of it. The magician was by no means
offended, but joined in the laugh; and for the next hour or more he
entertained me with an account of his professional experiences, and the
many difficulties he had to encounter in practicing his profession in
such a place as the mines, where complete privacy was so hard to be
obtained that he was obliged to practice the most secret parts of his
mysterious science in all sorts of ragged canvas houses, or else in
rooms whose rickety boarded walls were equally ineffectual in excluding
the prying gaze of the unwashed. He gave me a great insight into the
mysteries of magic, and explained to me how he performed many of his
tricks. All the old-fashioned hat-tricks, he said, were quite out of the
question in California, where, as no two hats are alike, it would have
been impossible to have such an immense assortment ready, from which to
select a substitute for any nondescript head-piece which might be given
to him to perform upon. I asked him to show me some of his
sleight-of-hand tricks, but he said his hands had got so hard with
mining that he would have to let them soften for a month or two before
he could recover his magical powers.
He was quite a young man, but had been regularly brought up to his
profession, having spent several years as confederate to some magician
of higher powers in the States--somewhat similar, I presume, to serving
an apprenticeship, for when I mentioned the names of several of his
professional brethren whose performances I had witnessed, he would say,
“Ah, yes, I know him; he was confederate to so-and-so.”
As he intended very soon to resume his practice, he was on the look-out
for a particularly smart boy to initiate as his confederate; and I
imagine he had little difficulty in finding one, for, as a general
thing, the rising generation of California are supernaturally smart and
precocious.
I met here also an old friend in the person of the Scotch gardener who
had been my fellow-passenger from New York to Chagres, and who was also
one of our party on the Chagres River. He was now farming, having taken
up a “ranch” a few miles from Sonora, near a place called Table
Mountain, where he had several acres well fenced and cleared, and
bearing a good crop of barley and oats, and was busy clearing and
preparing more land for cultivation.
This Table Mountain is a very curious place, being totally different in
appearance and formation from any other mountain in the country. It is a
long range, several miles in extent, perfectly level, and in width
varying from fifty yards to a quarter of a mile, having somewhat the
appearance, when seen from a distance, of a colossal railway embankment.
In height it is below the average of the surrounding mountains; the
sides are very steep, sometimes almost perpendicular, and are formed, as
is also the summit, of masses of a burned-looking conglomerate rock, of
which the component stones are occasionally as large as a man’s head.
The summit is smooth, and black with these cinder-like stones; but at
the season of the year at which I was there, it was a most beautiful
sight, being thickly grown over with a pale-blue flower, apparently a
lupin, which so completely covered this long level tract of ground as to
give it in the distance the appearance of a sheet of water. No one at
that time had thought of working this place, but it has since been
discovered to be immensely rich.
A break in this long narrow Table Mountain was formed by a place called
Shaw’s Flats, a wide extent of perfectly flat country, four or five
miles across, well wooded with oaks, and plentifully sprinkled over with
miner’s tents and shanties.
The diggings were rich. The gold was very coarse, and frequently found
in large lumps; but how it got there was not easy to conjecture, for the
flat was on a level with Table Mountain, and hollows intervened between
it and any higher ground. Mining here was quite a clean and easy
operation. Any old gentleman might have gone in and taken a turn at it
for an hour or two before dinner just to give him an appetite, without
even wetting the soles of his boots: indeed, he might have fancied he
was only digging in his garden, for the gold was found in the very roots
of the grass, and in most parts there was only a depth of three or four
feet from the surface to the bedrock, which was of singular character,
being composed of masses of sandstone full of circular cavities, and
presenting all manner of fantastic forms, caused apparently by the
long-continued action of water in rapid motion.